


Married

by Zeffy



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Fluff, Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:56:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7253389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeffy/pseuds/Zeffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie married Quinn while he was in a coma...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Married

“Ms Mathison! Ms Mathison! Hello, hello!” 

A young and cheerful doctor, a newly designated physical therapist, entered the room. He continued before Carrie could answer. 

“Or do you prefer Mrs? Or just Carrie? Anyway, how are you doing, you and your husband? All good? I'm Doctor James Stewart, or simply James.” 

The doctor was a tall, blond guy with curly hair, very lively and chatty. He looked at his patient like a puppy who just saw a ball in his master's hands and was dying to play, so excited to start the therapy. Everything in him screamed “I’m gonna make you feel good, no matter if you want it or not.” 

“Are we ready to begin, Mr Quinn? Please don't speak, I'm aware of your vocal chords problem. You have such a lovely wife, better work hard to make good progress, or I’ll ask her out. Girls don't like to be bored, you know. Just kidding! Just kidding!” 

He stood in the middle of the room, waiting for the answer, looking at Quinn (expecting him to nod, or to smile, or something) then turning to Carrie (expecting her to answer for him), and then to Quinn again, but neither of them was reacting in an appropriate way for a normal human being. 

Carrie’s face was red, and she looked at the doctor as if she wanted to kill him with her bare hands right then. Quinn was pale, jaw clenched, not looking at the doctor, not looking at Carrie, his gaze fixed on the bed frame, face expressionless, except that he was chewing his lower lip. 

The poor doctor couldn't make out the problem. Did he say something wrong? He had to look into his documents to check. No mistake, and the room was right, as well as their names. According to the papers, they'd been married for several months, even before "the accident", as the hospital staff diplomatically called the events in Berlin. So, might be the date joke, though it was his standing joke and it had always worked well on married couples, so far. 

The atmosphere in the room was very uneasy, he almost shivered under Carrie's angry stare, and the best option was to reel back. 

“Okay, I'll leave you two now, I just wanted to say hi. Your first physical therapy session is scheduled for tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you at 10.00 a.m.”

And with that he ran away as quickly as he could, trying to keep it to a very, very fast walk, to retain his self-respect in front of his colleagues and patients. 

Carrie wanted to play it cool, hoping he'd think it was the doctor's mistake and not comment. She busied herself with unpacking the bag with the clothes Quinn needed for his physical training sessions. Fucking Doctor Douchebag took her by surprise and her reaction gave her away totally, she knew it. 

Quinn grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop her fussy movements across the room. Here it goes. 

“What. The. Fuck!?” 

He was half-whispering, half-wheezing, and hell it sounded awful. 

“Quinn.” 

She looked at him, disconcerted, not knowing what to say next. He was boiling with rage, and she knew why – he was devastated by his own helpless state, and the fact that he literally woke up married without his consent, his awareness even, didn't make it easier. 

“Listen. I had to do it, there was no choice.” 

“Really? It's illegal, you know. And fucking low!” 

She sensed the pain in his words, but patience wasn't her strongest suit, and she was tired, so fucking tired of fighting with him, while he was pushing her away, and she was so exhausted physically, with all her duties - as a mom, a CIA officer and as a friend (as she put it in her mind), helping this stubborn man (asshole!) to recover. She counted to ten, focusing on breathing – nah, it wasn't not working. Who on Earth invented this shit as a calm down recipe? 

Ever since he was awake, he was giving her a hard time every single day, and she felt herself losing her self-control and started a full-blown screaming match. Well, from her side at least – he couldn't scream. 

“Low? How is that low? I did it because all these shitty doctors wouldn't let me be around, or choose better options for your treatment! I had to make a lot of decisions for your sake, otherwise you'd be stuck in military hospital in Germany for months, and their rehab program is limited, to say the least!” 

She took a deep breath and continued, less agitated, feeling guilty for this ugly breakdown. Geez, let him just stop trying to yell, the sound of his voice was somewhat unbearable. 

“You have no idea how hard it was, they kept asking who am I and what am I doing here. I had to scream at them every time I was too late for the visiting hours. I had to interrogate them, for real, to get every bit of information regarding your condition. I had to beg. I had to chase doctors, waiting for them near their houses and scaring the shit out of them. They didn't want to transfer you to the US, or elsewhere from that shitty military hospital, because it was all that the fucking CIA had in store for you. You know how it goes, they want to forget everything, like it never happened, as soon as possible. There was nothing else I could do, it was the last option, I swear!” 

He was still holding her by the arm, like he thought she'd just up and leave if he let her go, watching her speaking, and Carrie thought he could burn a hole in her with his stare. As she finished her explanations, she sat beside him on the bed, waiting for him to take it in. Truth was, she felt better for letting it out. Now that's what really helps to calm down – to scream it all out, she thought. 

She saw he was more confused than simmering now, frowning at her, but not angrily, just concerned, and she relaxed a bit - no more yelling, or angry hoarse whispering in this case -good. 

“So we’re married.” 

He spoke quietly, and his voice was much better when he didn't try to force it. 

“We are,” - Carrie said with apologetic smile, shrugging her shoulders. 

Long, concentrated look. She kept smiling, aiming for this no big deal attitude – come on, no need to be upset about this tiny piece of paper, how fun is it, can you imagine. 

More staring, more smiling. 

Suddenly he started laughing silently, and he laughed and laughed and all she could do was to laugh with him, happy to get rid of the secret that might complicate things between them, which were already pretty tangled. No broken furniture, no slammed doors, she's still here, that is a success. 

“Look, the bright side is that you can threaten me with the divorce any time you don't like what I’m doing.” 

“Oh, I’d have to use it 10 times a day.” 

“Sorry buddy, your wife is a such an annoying bitch.” 

“Shit, looks like I chose her while I was totally unconscious!” 

“Yeah, well, technically, on paper, it happened on April 22nd in Berlin. Guess who was unconscious that day? Me!” 

“So I kinda kidnapped you from under your boyfriend ‘s nose, drugged you and made you my wife while you were out cold. Nice!" 

"Right. And I shot you instead of some sappy vow exchange." 

"Did you do it on purpose? That date thing.” 

“No, it's a coincidence. They had to choose any day between your arrival and..” 

“Yeah.” 

“When I compared the dates I had to laugh. Jesus, Quinn, this is so fucked up!” 

“No shit! Great story to tell if anyone asks about the wedding though.” 

“Right! Tell that your PT tomorrow, and then watch him having a panic attack. I bet he adores us both already.” 

“So, darling, care to tell me, how did you pull this off?” 

“You can't call me darling!” 

“Sure I can, honey! So? How did it happen?” 

“Well, you know, the usual CIA stuff... You can order anything you like – marriage, divorce, death, birth, new identity, new name…” 

“Sounds boring. No champagne, no cake, no guests, no presents..” 

“Dar was there, I had to ask him for help. He gave me a donut as a wedding gift.”

“Come on, it can't be true!” 

“No kidding! That motherfucker even uttered “congratulations to the happy couple “, can you believe that?” 

“Fuck me! So, that bastard married us?” 

“He did. He signed that goddamn paper.” 

“A donut. Huh, classy!” 

“Yes. He was going to eat it, almost placed it in his mouth to take a bite, when I showed up in the doorway with the marriage certificate. So he put it away, signed the papers and presented me that fucking donut.” 

“I have to ask, is he still alive?”

“Well, he helped after all. By the way, I ate the donut. Couldn't throw away our only present. And also I was hungry.” 

“So sentimental of you.” 

“I know, it's my first wedding after all .” 

“So, technically, this is our long drawn-out honeymoon?” 

“I guess so. See, you spend all the time with your wife, in bed, you have massage every day, and the staff can bring you any food you like – full room service! Sounds like a pretty good honeymoon.” 

“If you put it this way, sure! But hey, I thought that ‘spend time with the wife in bed’ implies something different.” 

“But nobody's usually expanding on this topic, right? And as far as I know, none of us has experienced it first hand.” 

“As far as you know? You think I have another secret wife somewhere that the CIA isn't aware of?” 

“You never know...” 

“Ok, babe…” 

“Geez you're having fun! Would you ever stop teasing me with that?” 

“Don't think so, Mrs Quinn.” 

“For what it's worth, I kept my last name.” 

“Should I feel offended? You don't like to be Quinn or what?” 

“C’mon, it’s not even your real name, sweetheart!” 

“Ah, sweetheart. I like that. That'd be my real name from now on.” 

“Hey... Please forgive me. I know I had no right to do it, but there was no other way to help you.” 

He sat upright and pulled her close, hugging tight. 

“I know. Thank you, Carrie. Really, for everything you've done for me.” 

“You can divorce me any time now, you're well enough to make medical decisions on your own.” 

Truth was she could do it too - quietly, the same way she got them married. But, for some reason, she didn't. It was good to feel connected, however fake or formal the connection was, it turned out to be more real than plenty of other things in her life. 

“I don't want to, so you’re stuck with me, dearest wife, - that's my revenge!” 

“Please. Dearest wife is the worst!” 

"Ok, consider it settled. I'm your sweetheart, you're my dearest wife, till death do us apart." 

Carrie rolled her eyes – would it ever get old – but couldn't help but smile.


End file.
